The Bluewood Tree
by emerald-random
Summary: My 1st fanfic. CHAPTER 4! Finally I've updated - Read and review!
1. The Bluewood Tree

Disclaimer - The characters and places mentioned belong to Sherwood Smith, not me. Please don't sue.  
  
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The Bluewood Tree  
  
Vidanric, Renna, Trishe, Tamara, Geral and Nimiar, and the young Duke of Savona stood near the tall bluewood tree in the palace gardens at Athanarel. The remains of a picnic were left by cushions on the grass nearby. Soon a servant would arrive to tidy it away.  
  
"I have a new necklace." Announced Tamara proudly. "And mama says I can be heir of Chamadis!"  
  
"I have a pony...called Hazelnut." Said Renna, without thinking. "And I'm going to ride to Sartor and back!"  
  
"Ha ha ha. You won't." Russav of Savona was grinning.  
  
Renna glared at him. "Will too!"  
  
"Will not!"  
  
"Will too!"  
  
"Will - "  
  
"Be quiet both of you!" Trishe, sensible as ever, interrupted.  
  
Renna promptly stuck her tongue out at Savona. He grinned and looked away.  
  
"Life!" Trishe turned to Nee, Geral and Danric, who was plainly bored. "Does anybody have anything to say?"  
  
Nee gave a slight cough. She flicked open her fan. It was painted beautifully with silver starliss flowers.  
  
"Elenet made it for me." She said, pleased. "Before she left for Grumareth."  
  
"Pretty." Agreed Vidanric. "But doesn't starliss symbolise something..."  
  
Trishe shot him an alarmed look, worried that the twelve year old marquis would actually indicate the flower represented ambition.  
  
"He was going to say your fan was so beautifully painted, it looked like the starliss flowers in Princess Yustneveas Landis's gardens in Sartor." Geral finished his friend's sentence, knowing very well Danric liked to worry Trishe.  
  
Him and Savona both. They regarded it as a game.  
  
Trishe sighed. She should have known Vidanric knew how to keep his mouth shut when he wanted.  
  
"And it's called Queensblossom in Sartor!"  
  
Renna giggled. "Geral has swallowed an archive...or..." She added in a wondering voice. "Have you really been to Sartor?"  
  
Geral shook his head.  
  
"Well," diplomatically, Trishe took the conversation back to its previous subject. "My favourite possession is my hair." She smiled, shyly.  
  
"That isn't a possession!" Laughed Savona.  
  
"Cousin," rebuked Vidanric, "if you keep interrupting we'll be here all day. Trishe..."  
  
"Thank you. I like my hair because it doesn't need jewels or ribbons to make it look pretty."  
  
"I have bea-u-tiful hair too, Marquis Vidanric." Said Tamara in a sickly sweet voice.  
  
"Like a bird's nest!" Whispered Renna to Nee, who tried not to giggle. Tamara was her cousin.  
  
And she had heard them. She screeched. "You're just jealous because you'll never inherit anything and I'm going to be a princess and rule over court and everyone will have to bow down to me!"  
  
"Look," said Savona, imitating a courtier's voice. "We really are going to be here all day. Geral? Vidanric?"  
  
Geral sighed. "I have a pony, like Renna. Danric?"  
  
"Probably my palace in Shevraeth." He said blandly.  
  
"Probably?" Muttered Renna, to herself. "If I had a palace, I live there all the time."  
  
"That's never going to happen, is it - "  
  
Savona glared at Tamara.  
  
Suddenly, someone else spoke. Someone, they had not invited to their picnic.  
  
"I'm afraid, my friends, that my favourite possession will outshine all of them." It was Flauvic Merindar, King Galdran's nephew. They had all assumed he would soon be a page in Sles Adran and would have no time for picnics. Besides, it seemed the only one who actually spoke with him was Tamara.  
  
Tamara flirts with anyone, thought Russav, sighing inwardly.  
  
Flauvic Merindar had a bow and arrows in his hand. Things banned by the Code of War. Wood banned by the Covenant. Flauvic read what they were thinking, and said, almost carelessly. "That's ok. Uncle Galdran says so."  
  
Trishe politely bobbed a curtsey. "A bow and arrows!" She exclaimed, perplexed.  
  
The group of friends held their collective breath. Would Trishe dare tell Flauvic they were forbidden? The words: Uncle Galdran says so, were haunting.  
  
At last, he answered. "No, skill." He said airily. "I can bet you that I will hit any target, almost, from this point here."  
  
"What do you think cousin?" Drawled Vidanric. "I'd say Chovilun at least. Wouldn't you?"  
  
Flauvic's eyes narrowed, with anger and amusement.  
  
"But you can't use bows!" Cried Nee. "The Hill Folk! The Code of War. Everyone knows it isn't allowed!"  
  
Flauvic smiled mockingly at the little girl. For a moment, Savona wanted to hit him. But this was the king's nephew, and they were already in some trouble.  
  
"He won't hurt the Hill Folk." Said Trishe soothingly.  
  
Meanwhile, Geral and Renna were thinking.  
  
"Ok." Renna decided. "I'll mark a target on the lattice wall at the end of this garden. Geral, what do you think of the distance?"  
  
He glanced at Flauvic. "Err...good."  
  
Renna tied her handkerchief to the lattice. She checked no one else was wandering the area - aristocrat or servant, then waved to her friends, who stepped out the way as Flauvic Merindar put an arrow to his bow.  
  
"Wait!" Trishe intervened. "That fireflower bush is in the way."  
  
Flauvic let the arrow fall, then walked till the fireflower bush was just behind him. Renna was standing next to him.  
  
"I would move." Flauvic suggested.  
  
Renna ignored him. "You could stand on the right of that bluewood tree, but go backwards...stop!" She skipped back to join the others.  
  
"Will he, won't he?" Nee twisted a strand of her light brown hair.  
  
"Of course he'll win that bet." Replied Tamara confidently.  
  
Flauvic aimed the arrow at the blob of white - Renna's handkerchief. He took a few steps back, just to make sure that -  
  
"Watch out!" Yelled Geral.  
  
"Eeek!" squealed Nee.  
  
Tamara winced.  
  
Trishe had finally lost her patience with Flauvic Merindar. "Are you crazy?!" She demanded. "We'll be in so much trouble if anything is damaged!"  
  
Flauvic lifted his head from the picnic things. His bow lay on the grass beside him. The arrow was nowhere to be seen.  
  
They were reluctant to help Flauvic to his feet. Savona was grinning.  
  
"Anything broken?" He asked.  
  
"A couple of plates." Retorted Flauvic. "And I've got sugar in my hair!"  
  
"I like sugar." Said Nee composedly.  
  
Then, a sudden thought hit Vidanric. "Where's the arrow?"  
  
A few minutes later, there was a shout - "Found it!" Renna stood at the trunk of the bluewood tree, staring up at the leaves.  
  
"It's in the tree!" She chanted. "It's in the tree, tree, tree, tree!"  
  
"I like trees." Said Nee, automatically. She went pale. "The Hill Folk!" She gasped. "We've hurt a tree! We must make it better again!"  
  
"We will." Trishe tried to calm her down.  
  
"In the tree?!" Geral exclaimed. "You asked for distance. That is pretty high up!"  
  
"How are we going to get it out?" Trishe wondered.  
  
"We could shoot it out of the tree." Suggested Savona.  
  
"I know!" Cried Renna. "I'll climb the tree!"  
  
Vidanric raised his eyebrows. "In that gown?"  
  
She blushed. "I'll go change."  
  
"No." Trishe's voice was quiet, but decided. "No one is going to climb the tree."  
  
"But - "Nee began.  
  
"It's too dangerous."  
  
"An arrow in a tree." Thought Geral aloud. "It could be some kind of monument - a work of art maybe."  
  
"Yes." Agreed Vidanric. "Shall we go inside, wait - where's Flauvic?"  
  
"Gone." Said Savona.  
  
"But the Hill Folk - "Nee began.  
  
"I'm sure they'll punish those truly responsible one day." Said Trishe. Flauvic's name hovered in the air.  
  
That evening, Nimiar Argaliar returned to the garden. She watched the arrow embedded at the top of the tree trunk.  
  
"I wish I could meet the Hill Folk." She whispered. "One day..."  
  
She didn't realise that it was a strange wish for a girl growing up at court. She could have wished for Tamara's beauty, Savona's confidence, Trishe's diplomacy, or Geral's knowledge. Or Vidanric's - the way he didn't seem to say anything wrong.  
  
Nee closed her eyes. She almost thought she heard a reed pipe. When she looked up, she smiled.  
  
The arrow was gone. ____________________________________________________________________________ ________  
  
Yeah, that's my first fanfic. I always wondered what Danric, Flauvic etc were like as children. Please review! I guess Flauvic paid for hurting the tree in the end! Lol! 


	2. Of Princesses and Surprises

Disclaimer - The characters are not mine - although their childishness may be. Thanx to all the reviewers - If you people want me to continue I will!  
  
Chapter Two - Of Princesses and Surprises:  
  
"For everybody's sake, grow up!" Commanded an exasperated Trishe. (A/N: aka Felsong ;-) It's time for Nee and Renna to calm down) "Renna, you're a princess. You have to be graceful...and remember to curtsey properly after you say your lines."  
  
"Like this?" Renna practised, wobbling slightly in the shoes that pinched her feet but at least made her taller.  
  
"Perfect!"  
  
Two days since Flauvic Merindar's (infamous) accident with the arrow in the tree and life for the children of the court was running the same as it did usually - no trouble; nothing unexpected happening since. Apart from Russav of Savona persuading them to act out a play, a play he had written himself. Trishe decided it was her duty to make it run as smoothly as possible. She was not having much luck.  
  
Tamara flounced in wearing a black gown and crystal headdress befitting her character, the haughty, sinister Queen of Witches. "You're doing it all wrong!" She glared at Renna. "Trishe! I demand Renna and I swap roles!"  
  
Trishe turned wearily to Savona. "It's your play." She said. "Perhaps you should decide something."  
  
The young duke shrugged. "You're better at organising stuff than me - you and Danric. I don't come into this till I rescue the princess."  
  
"Hey!" Vidanric protested. "I thought I get to rescue the princess!"  
  
"Actually it says here you're someone insignificant that dies in the next scene." That was Savona, holding up his script.  
  
"I suggest a rewrite!" Retorted Danric.  
  
"Maybe," snapped Renna, "but I think you should stop arguing or I'll choose Geral or... or I'll go find Flauvic to be the prince!"  
  
"How very out of character." Muttered Geral. "And please don't invite that Merindar."  
  
Trishe heard, and smiled. "Time to change roles then. Renna, you're the evil Queen of Witches. Tamara is now the princess. Geral is the king. I'm the queen. Then Nee...Nee?" Trishe scanned the room for her usually joyful shadow. Nimiar Argaliar was not present. "Has anyone seen Nee?"  
  
"Um, no." Said Danric. "In fact, I haven't seen her since breakfast this morning. If Elen was here I'd say she's gone to see her."  
  
"But she's not here." Interrupted Tamara acidly. "Never mind. The princess will just have to be short of her maid today. Shame."  
  
"Where was I?" Continued Trishe. "Oh, yes. Vidanric, Savona. Which one of you is going to be the prince?"  
  
Savona sighed. "I don't mind. Cousin?"  
  
"We can have two princes!" Exclaimed Renna.  
  
Tamara was not so sure. "Does that mean I have to be rescued by both of them?!"  
  
"Too late!" Chirped Renna. "I'm not swapping roles again!"  
  
Trishe stayed quiet, allowing them to decide the goings-on of the play amongst themselves. She was more concerned about Nee's absence. It was not like her to miss a rehearsal - the little girl had been adamant about playing a part - however small.  
  
* * *  
  
Nee hurried along the passageways, visions of the Hill Folk clouding her thoughts. She should have been in Trishe's rooms, with her friends, practising the lines for Savona's play. Nee was a servant - she spoke lines only in the first two acts.  
  
It did not matter that she was eight, almost nine years old. She was a young lady living at court, despite what Tamara repeated about her lack of status and possessions. Her parents spent most of their time either at the small castle of Erkan-Argaliar or as part of King Galdran's court. So, most of the time the young courtiers were left to lessons, and mostly had to amuse themselves. Tamara adored fashion. Savona had written a play. Then there was Nee. Nee, who wanted to meet the Hill Folk.  
  
She had found the next best thing - reading in the Athanarel library.  
  
Nimiar never told her friends where she was going, just slipped away when she thought she was to be least noticed. Other times she desperately needed to be alone, afraid the others would laugh about her fascination with faraway lands and mystical creatures. Now was one of those times.  
  
She stepped inside the library, first checking she wasn't disrupting anyone. Half the room was fairly dark, shadowed by shelves of books. Nee wished she had those shoes of Renna's - then she could reach the ones higher up. Or fall over trying, she thought. Nee had the weird impulse to giggle. She swallowed it.  
  
What if someone important, powerful was watching her? Wait, she reminded herself, the king does not come here.  
  
"Hello?" She called.  
  
No answer.  
  
Satisfied, Nee pulled up a chair so the light from a glowglobe lit her seat, opened a story about a princess of Sartor, and began to read.  
  
* * *  
  
Footsteps. Nee had been reading for an hour by then. Her head ached a little from concentration and she seemed to be distracted by even the tiniest of sounds. Her first reaction was annoyance. Nee had to remind herself that it was not her library although she certainly wished it was. Silent, she rested her book on the stool. Whoever it was had stopped walking. Nimiar crept towards the entrance to the archive.  
  
A woman, about the same age as Nee's mother was at a desk, finger scanning an open book. The book itself was decorated with symbols and ornate script. Nee paid no notice to it at first. The woman, dressed elegantly in a blue gown sewn with tiny iridescent mois gems, looked up. She had long auburn hair. Robin's egg blue eyes met Nee's hazel ones.  
  
"Did I surprise you dear?" She asked. ____________________________________________________________________________ ________  
  
He he he. I'm evil putting a minor cliff-hanger at the end. You can probably guess who Nee has just met. Can you?  
  
Secondly, as Black Rose25 pointed out - they don't write down plays in Remalna - oops. Just for perfection I'll say in the next chapter they got the idea from another part of the world (Geral seems to know a lot about Sartor) or something. Sorry - I really forgot! 


	3. Savona's Play

Disclaimer - Characters and places belong to Sherwood Smith, not me.  
  
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Chapter Three - Savona's Play  
  
The elegantly dressed court lady closed her book, carefully wrapping it in paper. She did all of this while smiling warmly at Nee.  
  
"I'll soon be visiting Alsais." She began, with a touch of amusement. "You shall have your library back soon, dear."  
  
Nee was unsure where Alsais was, so just nodded, wondering if she should curtsey. She tried desperately to remember if she had seen this woman before, around Athanarel, or as a friend of anyone in her family. She had not.  
  
"Should you be anywhere in particular?" The lady enquired.  
  
Nee took this as a dismissal and curtseyed hastily. "I am sorry to disturb you, my lady." She squeaked, ready to retreat. Nimiar, although friendly around people she knew, was often diffident towards strangers.  
  
"You are not disturbing me, dear." Her voice was soft, light. "In fact, if you like reading, then you are very much like my own children. I merely wondered whether or not you had friends waiting or looking for you, perhaps. It is unusual for a child to be in such a place at this time."  
  
Nee was not aware of what was meant by the words "at this time." She was close to regretting heading for the library. She could have easily played in the gardens or tidied her favourite dolls. The lady was watching her, attentively. No adult Nee knew had hair the colour of russet leaves, or paid so much attention to her.  
  
She introduced herself. "I am Ranisia Astiar."  
  
Nee bobbed a curtsey. "Lady Ranisia, I am Nimiar Argaliar." Then out of curiosity: "Are you the Countess of Tlanth. Tlanth-of-where-the-Hill-Folk- live?"  
  
"Yes, I am - though I have only seen the Hill Folk a few times - back home. May I ask, Nimiar dear, why such an interest in Tlanth, and the Hill Folk?"  
  
Nee, startled that something in her question had betrayed her loyalty to the Hill Folk, racked her mind for something innocent to say.  
  
"You could be a sorceress. Please, my lady - Lady Ranisia," she added. "It would not be good to harm the Hill Folk."  
  
Lady Ranisia's eyes flicked to the book, then back to Nee. So much for tact - Nimiar sensed wariness in that split second glance. Then, to her absolute surprise, Ranisia of Tlanth gave a hoot of laughter.  
  
"Sorcery apart. I don't suppose it would be a good idea to harm the Hill Folk, after all - "She broke off. "Nimiar, dear, please sit down." Ranisia indicated a second chair.  
  
Nee blinked, she had noticed one chair only - Ranisia's. Politely, she accepted it. Her shoes brushed the floor only slightly.  
  
"Where are the other young members of the court?" Asked the lady.  
  
"They are rehearsing the Duke of Savona's play." Nee explained, smoothing the lilac silk of her skirts. "I don't play a main character. I just needed to read a while." She babbled. "They won't know I'm here, or have met you. Anyhow, it is a very odd play."  
  
"Why would you say that? I like plays a lot - perhaps I know which one you are acting."  
  
"But you see, Savona says he made this play up himself. And that's what is so strange about it. He writes down some parts of the speech next to the name of the person who says it."  
  
Ranisia's eyes sparkled with interest and knowledge. "Now in Remalna, it is not customary for the players to write down what they say. But in other parts of the world, like Sartor, and in the past, plays were recorded."  
  
Nee beamed, forgetting to be guarded. "So exactly the same play can be performed over and over again?"  
  
"Yes, dear." Said Ranisia, pleased with Nimiar's understanding. "Exactly that."  
  
* * *  
  
"Die mere mortals!" Shrieked Renna, Queen of Witches. "Nobody gets past my sorcery!" She brandished a pretend wand at the princes, waiting for them to strike back.  
  
Tamara screamed, rather too realistically. Then, in a cross voice. "Savona, Vidanric - witch-girl is here! I demand that you save me!"  
  
"Savona? Danric?" That was Trishe. "There is a princess here, desperately needing to be rescued."  
  
The "princes" had left their wooden swords on the floor, nearby. Annoyed, Tamara picked one up and stuck it fiercely before Renna's face.  
  
"I am not desperate at all, thank you." She glared at Trishe. "I can rescue myself." She added, "for now at least," whilst smiling prettily at Savona.  
  
At that point, Tamara left the set demanding that a maid see to her hair. Strands of it were escaping her braid and the jewelled pins were askew.  
  
"It just is not fair!" She moaned. "I'm the princess and Nee should be here being my maid!"  
  
"Nee isn't a real maid though." Vidanric pointed out with a sigh.  
  
"Marquis Vidanric, you and Savona should have rescued me hours ago!"  
  
There really was not much point arguing with Tamara, who was as stubborn as she was beautiful. It was Russav who saw the beauty before the stubbornness, and it was Danric, of all people, who knew the motivation behind his cousin's idea to stage a play.  
  
Trishe had disappeared, most likely looking for Nee. Having discarded their few props and costumes, Geral and Renna had begun talking about their ponies. Tamara, Danric was content to see, was trying to sort her hair herself, studying her reflection in Trishe's hand mirror. He needed to talk to Savona without anyone else, in particular a certain girl of the court, listening to their conversation.  
  
"Cousin?" Vidanric jerked his head towards the door.  
  
Sorting through the script notes, Savona replied. "I'm coming."  
  
* * *  
  
"I don't think you're plan is working, cousin." Vidanric told Savona, truthfully.  
  
The young Duke sighed. "The play was such a good idea. She's the princess, I'm the prince. Well, you're also a prince but..."  
  
"Do you really like her that much, Russav?" Danric wanted to know. He let no expression show on his face but that of calm questioning.  
  
"You mean...her?"  
  
Vidanric replied, slightly impatient. "Yes, her, if Tamara is who you mean, cousin."  
  
Savona gave a slight nod, and sighed again, all this avoiding Danric's gaze. "She is very beautiful." He said, thoughtfully. "Even if she wore servant clothes instead of the most fashionable gowns I would think that."  
  
Danric smiled. He said gently. "Will you tell her that? Tamara?"  
  
Russav of Savona shook his head emphatically. "I could never do that!"  
  
"Even when you are older?" Asked Vidanric. "Have some faith that your feelings will last, cousin!" The marquis could not help but grinning now.  
  
Savona grinned back. "Will you help me?" He spoke hesitantly, his grin gone in a moment.  
  
"I'll help you sort the play out." Vidanric promised solemnly. "Trust me and Trishe for that."  
  
"Cousin?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Thanks. If you ever need me to do anything..."  
  
"You don't need to thank me, cousin. If Tamara has her hair sorted," Danric observed, "I would say you have a princess to rescue."  
  
Savona grinned. "Of course."  
  
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Yay! Chapter 3 is up! Loadsa thanx to all the reviewers! Ure comments are very welcome. I say you rule!  
  
PhoenixMage and Black Rose25 - well done for being the first to recognise it was Mel and Bran's mom!  
  
And thanx to Sarah-Crysala, it was her idea that inspired it. 


	4. Keeping Promises

Disclaimer - Characters and places belong to Sherwood Smith, not me.  
  
Thanx to all the loyal reviewers - I've had writer's block over this fanfic for the last two weeks and your comments made me want to continue. Loadsa thanx again!  
  
Wake-Robin - You are a TALENTED fanfic writer, and I know for every good review you've got, someone thinks so - so there! Actually, you putting up the next chapters of Out of the Blue made me realise how lazy I was which motivated me to write this chapter.  
  
Black Rose25 - Thanx for all those emails - to and from Colorado - (7 hours back in time lol!)  
  
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Chapter Four - Keeping Promises  
  
Nee left the library when the next bell rung. The chime pealed throughout Athanarel, and both Nimiar and the Countess Ranisia knew it was time for them to depart. Ranisia tidied her desk, while Nee waited, absently smoothing the ribbons at her sleeves. In a strange way, Nee had understood Ranisia as if she was a relative, not a court lady she had met for the first time an hour ago. Once stood up, Nee was aware of her chair fading away into nothing, just as it had appeared. Ranisia gave Nee a tiny smile. She then clasped the little girl's hand, for a moment, in a too adult-like gesture that made Nee feel awkward. Nimiar made an effort to smile back perfectly.  
  
"Thank you," the girl said, quite seriously, "for telling me about plays, and the Hill Folk." She took a breath. Dare she say what she thought next? "And for showing me some magic."  
  
Ranisia gave a little start, her eyes flicking form Nee to where the chair had been, and then back to Nee. Then her wariness died away back into a smile.  
  
"Yes." She did not try to contradict Nee's observation about magic. "I hope we will meet again soon, when I come back to Remalna. Nimiar Argaliar, I hope one day you will meet the wondrous Hill Folk - maybe even at Tlanth. Thank you for your company."  
  
Nee curtseyed; mumbled something she did not understand herself. She fled the library, in haste forgetting the book she had been reading before. She ran to the courtyard gardens, purposefully avoiding the sounds of adult voices.  
  
She did not know whether to cry or be happier than she had ever been in her life. Ranisia had taught her a lot, but she was leaving tomorrow morning. The Countess of Tlanth had spoken about plays: Nee's favourite was concerning Queen Theraez. It sounded exciting to live in Remalna when the climate was warm and sunny so every day they could play outside and not get muddy. And the song of the Hill Folk seemed so awe-inspiring that Nee wanted to escape to the mountains right away.  
  
She stopped to look at her reflection in a raised pool of water surrounded by mosaic tiles. Her dress was crumpled, she knew, and her beribboned sleeves a mess. At least her braid was remotely neat. It was hard to tell though, with the water shimmering where the breeze created waves on it's surface.  
  
Nimiar stepped back to stare at the Bluewood tree. Its limbs were tinted with blue, thick veins of the different shades ran up its solid trunk. Dappled leaves in golden green and pale sapphire spread the branches. It had rained recently, and the specks of water only made the tree's foliage more dazzling.  
  
Nee looked up, half wondering if there should be a mark where Flauvic's arrow had hit the tree. As she suspected, the arrow had disappeared two days ago without any trace at all.  
  
"There you are!"  
  
Nimiar was surprised by Trishe and Vidanric who had arrived still wearing their costumes for Savona's play. The sight of Trishe with a lopsided circlet, and the young Marquis of Shevraeth in the funny hat that had belonged to his grandfather, tempted Nee to giggle. She smiled - a real smile - not a courtier's - turning away from the Bluewood tree to greet them.  
  
"Please, don't mock me." Said Danric, with a trace of laughter in his eyes. "I can't be a prince without the hat - or so I am told."  
  
"We seriously need to decide whether this play is a comedy or not." Explained Trishe. "In fact, we have to decide whether and how this play is going to happen anyway. You weren't at rehearsals?"  
  
It was a statement rather than a question, but Nee could not ignore the enquiring looks on her friends' faces.  
  
"I was reading - finding out about plays." She beamed. Nee did not have to lie - her answer was the truth.  
  
"Oh, good." Replied Trishe, straightening her gold circlet. "Any ideas?"  
  
Nee thanked Ranisia silently. She was not just a minor part. They had asked for her opinion!  
  
"Why don't we go meet the others. Tamara had to leave at the bell though - she's getting a new gown, I think. Apart from that, we are all helping my cousin with this play. Nee?"  
  
She nodded to Vidanric. "I'll help."  
  
* * *  
  
"I really do need some allies here." That was Renna. She looked crossly at the king, queen, two princes and maid - all played by her friends.  
  
"She has a point, you know." Vidanric murmured to his cousin, the Duke of Savona.  
  
"Does it really matter as long as Tamara is rescued?" Russav thought aloud.  
  
"But you see - more enemies, like Renna means it's harder for you to rescue your princess, so therefore your princess should be more grateful when rescued since only a particularly competent prince is able to defeat the enemies." Explained Vidanric.  
  
"Point accepted - but...this is just in a play cousin."  
  
Vidanric shrugged. "You admitted your feelings for your princess were more than that. You want to impress Tamara, don't you?"  
  
Savona grinned. "Of course. And she is not "my princess" - just the Countess of Turlee's daughter."  
  
"And I suppose I'm still someone insignificant who's dead in two scenes time." Drawled Vidanric.  
  
Savona smiled sheepishly. "Your character isn't a particularly competent prince."  
  
"Princes?" Renna demanded. "Are you going to gossip all day?"  
  
"Bossy, isn't she?" Russav muttered.  
  
Danric, the only one in earshot, smiled, thinking: Almost like Tamara is, in a way. He was glad a rehearsal time had been arranged with Tamara not present. It was much easier to talk to Russav without being interrupted by the crux of the matter.  
  
"There's only one person I can think of who's perfect for playing an evil character." Announced Geral, a sly glint in his eyes.  
  
Renna curtseyed. "You're too kind." She said merrily.  
  
"Not you!" Savona laughed. "But his prettiness - "  
  
"Flauvic Merindar." Chorused Vidanric and Geral together.  
  
Nee listened to all of this, sharing the same calm satisfaction as Trishe. She piped up. "Will Flauvic agree to be in our - your play? After all, we all laughed at him for tripping over when he was trying to show off."  
  
There was silence as the others contemplated this thought.  
  
Trishe was the first to speak. "Nee's right. Why? Wouldn't Flauvic be plotting a way to gain popularity - surely he's laughing stock of Athanarel by now."  
  
"Plotting." Said Savona. "That is exactly what makes him the perfect baddie. We have to have him in our play. It'll make rescuing the princess quite realistic."  
  
"I know!" Squealed Renna. "We'll - I'll trick him into wanting to be in the play. I'll use magical powers too!"  
  
"You're not really Queen of Witches." Observed Savona in a dry tone.  
  
"And your not really a prince." Replied Renna sweetly.  
  
Vidanric looked away to hide he was on the verge of laughter. Russav knew him too well for that and glared in his direction.  
  
"We also need somewhere else to rehearse." Trishe changed the subject diplomatically. "Then we won't have to tidy away the props after every rehearsal."  
  
Nee remembered an old ballroom just outside Athanarel Palace. It was not a ruin - people had used it for parties for centuries. However, King Galdran had thought of having it renovated recently - and not as a ballroom either.  
  
"I know a place." She volunteered. "That abandoned hall. It's nearby - so we'll be allowed..."  
  
"Lets explore it!" Decided Renna.  
  
Trishe sighed. "The roof is still intact, is it?"  
  
"It looks perfectly safe." Nee promised.  
  
"Please," Renna begged. "We'll even clear a proper stage and help you move the props there."  
  
"Just be careful." Said Trishe. "I think you should wear riding clothes instead of your costumes and best gowns."  
  
"I wouldn't wreck my magical costume for the world." A sensible, but excited Renna announced extravagantly.  
  
Nee just nodded obediently. She had to run to keep up with Renna who was skipping to the chant of: "Fun, fun, fun, fun..."  
  
"Life!" Exclaimed Geral. "How are we going to trick Flauvic Merindar into being in this play - and playing a generally hated character?"  
  
"That's easy." The Duke of Savona told them confidently. "Just make it seem that he plays the best part. Flauvic can't resist showing off."  
  
"Lovely." Said Trishe pleasantly. "Now why don't you all put your showing off into practise." 


End file.
